The Figure
by anyasha1
Summary: One shot that became multi-chapter. A moment of awakening for Regina when she comes home late one night and kisses a figure in her bedroom, thinking it's her fiancé Robin. It's not, and Regina has never felt more alive. SwanQueen.
1. Chapter 1

The town hall meeting had been excruciatingly boring. Regina hadn't said a word as Leroy droned on about the zone restriction laws on his shop. Archie had interjected to say placatory things, expecting Regina to lash out at him any moment.

Meanwhile, Snow had tried to divert the discussion back to the installation of a big Christmas tree at the town square. Surprisingly, the Sheriff had objected to Snow's tree idea, pointing out safety regulations – the one bright note in that fiasco, thought Regina sourly as she drove into her parking lot. Snow's face while her own daughter was tearing the tree idea to shreds had made Regina happier than she had been all week.

Normally, she would not have allowed the time to be wasted on such frivolities, but Regina had found herself curiously listless. Robin, her fiancé, hadn't been at the meeting – he rarely attended official events, preferring to train his Merry Men at the edge of the wood instead. Sometimes she found herself wondering what it would be like to be him, so laidback and accepting of whatever other people decided.

Relaxing, she decided. Until Snow White's face, eyes lit with excitement, came to her mind. Feeling irritable, she shut the front door a little harder than she had intended. Fine, so she couldn't do laidback. She paused with her hands on her keys, her thumb rubbing the cool metal absently. A small thump came from upstairs, but Regina's mind was on the meeting and the unusual apathy she had felt sitting through it. Distractedly, she began climbing the stairs. A part of her mind registered that Robin must have returned. Outside, it was already darkening quickly as the long autumn night began.

The lights to her bedroom were not switched on. Regina was still feeling preoccupied, but a part of her was puzzled. She could feel a rising curiosity about why Robin would be sitting in the dark. As the tiredness hit her she decided that perhaps she needed to give in to Robin's polite requests that they take their physical relationship to the next step.

She was satisfied with kissing him, and felt no desire to take things further. Plus, she assumed that they would wait till they were married. Yet, increasingly, Robin seemed interested in pushing the limits a little more. From chaste kissing they had progressed to tongue kissing, and Robin would often kiss her face and neck while Regina closed her eyes, hoping it was enough to satisfy him. She would massage his back and hold him tightly, trying to convey her feelings of affection and security.

Her fingers closed around the door knob and as she opened the door to the darkened room, she was struck by how she wasn't being grateful enough. She needed to show more emotion, feel more, and one way to do that would be to give him what he wanted.

And so it was that when she saw the silhouette by her window – with the dim moonlight glinting off the curls that peeked out from under the hoodie, she decided to take the plunge before she could change her mind. Striding up to the figure, she reached with her arm and clasped the shoulder of the man she had agreed to marry.

The figure whirled around, and Regina pressed herself into his arms, touching her lips to his in a highly familiar gesture.

Only – as her lips made contact with lips that felt like soft velvet, she realised that it wasn't familiar at all. For the first time in her life, Regina felt her mind go entirely blank, as desire raked through her body. Her arms tightened around the figure's neck as she drew their heads closer. A small part of her mind began to send warning signals to her brain – because a lot felt subtly different. But that small part was like a drop of water compared to the flood of feelings overwhelming her.

Deeper, was her only thought as their lips made contact, their mouths opened more; as the careful, almost reverential pecking, a sweet holding of lips, became more insistent. Regina felt a moan rise in her chest, then quelled it; felt her toes curling as their lips moulded against each other, as their tongues swirled gently. Not quite hesitant, not quite forward – as if anything too quick would break the spell. Regina's hands unconsciously pulled the hoodie down, in an attempt to grasp more of the head she was kissing. Hair cascaded over her fingers and she didn't notice twirling into them, lightly tracing the scalp, of leaning into the kiss even more as her hand fisted around the figure's head. Arms embraced her in response – and she could feel the body stiffening against her, the tension rising as they fitted closer, as the kissing turned into a feasting, as their movements began to seek more, demand more.

And Regina could not help the moan that escaped her when the figure in one motion sucked on her neck almost painfully, while one hand slid from her back to her behind, and pressed her closer – squeezed.

Never in her wildest imagination – in all the times she had tried to talk herself into taking a step further with Robin – had she imagined feeling like this. And so, refusing to listen to anything contrary that that little part of her brain was picking up on, she clung to the body and exhaled, 'Robin.'

And just like that, the figure pulled away. It was only then that Regina's brain allowed itself to process – the softness of the cheek she had been nuzzling against, the press of breasts against her own that had turned her nipples into stiff peaks, the reduced height difference which felt like the perfect level for her to mould into.

Realisation poured into her, and with it a fear she instinctively tried to quell. The warmth, the cold, the one foot distance between them vast.

'I don't,' she stammered, 'Who are you?'

She blushed then, hearing the ragged breathlessness of her own voice. The same voice which would stop the sessions with Robin with a firm and confident purr of, 'Enough'.

But just right then, her knees felt shaky. Belatedly, she remembered the feel of the biceps pressed against her sides, of how fingers had skimmed across her back, her neck, her shoulders, leaving her skin on fire in their wake.

From downstairs came the sound of keys jangling, a door opening, and a heavy, shuffling tread.

'Regina?' called a gruff voice that she now recognised, with a shock of coldness gripping her heart, had done absolutely nothing for her.

Nice and comforting apparently did not mean attractive. How had she not known?

The figure had taken another step back – this time a little to the left, where the balcony was. Regina tried to summon all the fierceness that usually came so readily to her, 'Who are you? Tell me now.' And hated how like a teenager it sounded – full of longing, curiosity, and desire.

(And all parts of her brain refused to register _breasts pressed against her breasts_.)

She knew she should be scared or angry. How did this person get into her house? That itself should have scared her. But her body was singing a different tune – that kiss had been so tender, so tentative, so passionate. She could hear Robin moving about, putting his coat away, pulling off his boots, stomping towards the staircase.

Upstairs, the figure was taking far smaller – far greater – steps away from Regina. 'Please,' she heard herself say, 'Tell me who you are.'

And still, more than wanting to know, she wanted to kiss again, to soar again on that burning ship of sensation that felt like an echo now, an echo that was raging over her skin like a fever.

The figure turned swiftly, and climbed off the balcony. It happened so quickly that for an instant Regina was horrified at the possibility of the intruder having jumped. But when she rushed to the place, she saw the figure shimmying down the drainpipe, pulling the hoodie up, and jogging off the driveway.

Regina, feeling nothing like herself, stood there rooted. A part of her brain was furiously trying to work out what was so familiar about that figure.

And then arms were encircling her stomach, and a stubbled face was pressed against hers as Robin hugged her from behind. She stiffened, then forced herself to relax, to lean in, but stiffened again.

And as she exhaled, and let herself fall a little into Robin, it registered. _No breasts pressing against hers._

Not a man then.

And then it took another five seconds.

When the world had righted itself, three seconds later, Regina said in her usual decisive tone, 'It's over Robin. This isn't working for me.'

And then there had been words, and hurt feelings, and more words, some of which had skimmed the surface of threats. Like, 'You need me – without me to ground you, what if things go wrong?' Like, 'I'm your soulmate Regina – what else is there for you?' Like, 'Do you really want to be alone?'

And Regina hadn't said much – feeling on the one hand that same apathy that had overcome her at the meeting, and a muted exhilaration – as if life in the present was only now about to begin.

She hadn't even known how frozen she was.

Like the town clock ticking to life, she heard her own mind breathe one word, full of promise – Emma.


	2. Chapter 2

When Regina woke the next morning, she stared at the empty side of the bed beside her. With a little jolt of wonder, she realised she felt no grief, none of that terrified loneliness she had thought would overpower her without Robin. Her fingers crept across the soft purple sheet, tracing the little creases made by her own tossing and turning. She remembered the desperation of all those years when she had woken up alone, partly relieved that there was no more magic, no more Evil Queen, and no more Leopold and his legacy. Yet, partly anguished because when that anger and chaos had been taken away, there had been just – nothing.

And then Robin had come, with his reassuring warmth, his pleasant humour, his ability to blend into the background. So self-contained, she thought, so – well – dull. She turned on her back and stared at the ceiling, wondering at herself for clinging to him like that. Of thinking that after a life as eventful as hers, _that_ could have been the culmination.

It was as if the numbing, suffocating curse had only just broken for her.

Her fingers traced back to her own body absently, slowly dragging across from the bed to her hips and stomach and onward until they stopped at her neck. Her eyes closed as she touched that point – the one where it felt like a furnace was burning even now. She remembered how tightly she had been held, the softness of those lips, the insistence of that tongue, and the grazing, demanding, loving nip of those teeth. Her body, unbidden, arched slightly as she gasped at the memory, feeling a jolt of pleasure between her legs.

With a blush, she removed her fingers and opened her eyes, trying to force her mind back to the day ahead. _I have to talk to Emma_ , she thought. Her mind refused to dwell on the details, ask any questions about what it meant, even think about what she would say. She just – had to see Emma.

In every way, as she went through her morning routine, this was just like any other day for Regina. So used to the movements, the right amount of shampoo on her scalp, the right amount of time to choose an outfit. And yet, today, she found herself biting her lip with pleasure. Standing in front of the mirror, she felt she was looking at a different version of herself – like her skin was bursting with life, like her eyes were smouldering, like her heart beat with a daring, insistent purpose.

And in the midst of all that, doubt flickered. _It had been Emma, hadn't it?_

If Regina ate her breakfast a little more hurriedly than usual, if the tyres of her expensive Mercedes screeched uncharacteristically when she pulled out of her driveway, if the messages on her cellphone went unanswered, she didn't notice. Nor was it a conscious choice that her car pulled up outside the Sheriff's office instead of outside the Mayor's office.

At the doorway, she paused. For there was Emma, slouched over paperwork; red jacket. white shirt, tight blue jeans, pen in hand, cellphone cradled on her shoulder. 'Yes ma'm,' she was saying as she wrote. And Regina wondered as she always did, at the ease with which Emma (magically so strong, physically so powerful, her heritage impeccably royal) was deferential to every old lady and straggling drunk.

'We're so sorry ma'm. We'll check that right away.'

In the bright white light of the station, with its cluttered desk facing the cool metallic bars of the cell, Regina wondered again if this was the same figure she had been pressed against last night. If those lips prattling mundane apologies into the phone were the same that had ignited such wildness in her.

'Madame Mayor?' she heard a distant voice say.

'Ms Swan,' she replied firmly as she snapped to the present, barely missing a beat.

If the stares were a little longer, a little more loaded, well that was hardly unusual for them.

Regina stalked to the chair opposite Emma's desk even as Emma gestured politely for her to have a seat. 'What can I do for you today?' Emma was saying their words – the normal words between them. The words that usually meant – we are not fighting, we are not enemies, we are keeping the fragile peace, even if just barely. Regina strove to catch any oddness, any difference, but Emma's eyes stared back at her impassively.

And if there were swirling depths in eyes she could have drowned in, well, that too was hardly new.

'I am here,' Regina said carefully, without breaking eye contact, 'to file a complaint about an intruder in my house.'

She watched as Emma looked away briefly, pulled out a new sheet of paper, and began writing on the dotted lines.

Name: _Regina Mills_

Regina watched as the ink flowed, curved into her own name like a familiar binding. In the world where she came from, names were powerful things. She decided she liked the way Emma wrote hers.

Address: _108 Mifflin Street_

Neither commented on the fact that Emma had her address memorised. Without looking up, Emma said formally, 'When did the incident occur?'

'Last night.'

Still staring at the paper, Emma asked, 'Why didn't you alert us right away?'

'The intruder fled. And it was late.'

'What did he look like?'

Regina stared at Emma's bent head, her expression turning stony. 'I could not tell.'

There was the briefest of pauses before Emma said, 'Can you tell us anything that would help identify him?'

'He,' she paused as Emma's pen froze momentarily, 'had a hoodie on.'

'Approximate height?'

'About yours,' said Regina, letting a trace of smugness enter her voice.

Emma looked up sharply, and for a fleeting moment, Regina thought she saw a rawness there. But the next moment, Emma's face was blank again, and she turned back to the paper.

And for the first time since coming to the station, Regina began to doubt herself. And with that doubt, came a fear, a not-knowing she did not like at all.

'Ms Swan, I need to know who it was. And why they would break into my house,' she said, unable to keep a slight tremor out of her voice.

Emma seemed to hesitate, then said in that same formal voice, 'I'll send David to investigate at once.'

Regina frowned, 'Why David? Surely this is serious enough to merit even your attention, Sheriff?'

And just like that, the fragile thread that kept them at a safe distance, snapped.

'Don't tell me how to do my job, Regina,' snapped Emma, jabbing a finger in her direction. Oh where, a part of Regina thought sardonically, was that famous Emma deference when it came to her.

She stood from her chair, feeling some degree of satisfaction at Emma's agitation. She had to admit – the one thing that was better than seeing Snow White disappointed, was getting under Emma Swan's skin. And for once, she had a wholly legitimate reason.

'A potentially dangerous criminal breaks into my house – a woman's house – and you send your Deputy? Is this the safety standard the town can expect?' she all but spat.

It was Emma's turn to frown as she pushed back her chair and stood to avoid having Regina tower over her. With an involuntary step toward Regina, she said, 'Why don't you let me get on with my job, and criticise all you want after we find out what happened?'

'Maybe you just don't want the intruder found,' said Regina accusingly, refusing to back down. There it was – all their old resentments, all their old animosity bubbling over.

'What the hell is that supposed to mean, Regina?' said Emma, instinctively taking another step forward.

'Maybe,' hissed Regina, stepping into Emma's personal space and bringing her face close to Emma's, 'Maybe you know exactly who it was.'

Fear leaped into Emma's eyes, before being quelled as anger surfaced. But Regina had caught it, that lightning-fast flash of guilt just behind the fear.

Outside, cars were honking, a stray dog was barking, and the muted voices of people walking past could be heard. Inside, the air conditioner whirred, and a paper ball rustled as it scraped against the floor.

But the space between Emma and Regina was perfectly still.

Emma whispered, 'I don't know what you mean.' But there was that sulkiness in her voice that Regina knew to read as surrender. All of Regina's anger drained, as she brought her lips close to Emma's and asked, 'Don't you?'

Emma, she could see, was poised in that all too familiar fight or flight indecision.

'Tell me, Ms Swan,' Regina continued in a voice that was nine parts purr and only one part breathless. Internally, she fought the urge to move forward one inch and taste Emma again. Instead, she moved her lips near Emma's ear and said softly, 'Tell me, if I were to open the city's safety regulations handbook, would there even be anything about a Christmas tree?'

Emma stood perfectly still, still putting on the face that Regina had come to know well – that thick frozen wall of hers. She knew that Emma could stay inside her own little jail cell indefinitely.

Regina continued in that same tone, 'Because I am pretty sure that no town in this goddamned land without magic has regulations against their hazardous, beloved Christmas trees.'

Regina pressed her advantage literally by moving closer, one finger trailing over Emma's neck, and up her chin. "You dash Snow White's hopes with a lie. Anyone would think you were courting me."

One of her hands slipped further down, and slowly unbuttoned Emma's jeans. She wasn't sure Emma noticed, because she could have sworn all of Emma's attention was now on how the tip of Regina's tongue was lightly grazing Emma's ear lobe. Feeling more than a little heady, Regina moved her head back so she could see Emma's face clearly.

Emma had a haunted look in her eyes, even as her pupils were dilated with lust. Regina moved her body closer, and simultaneously slipped her hand inside. She wasn't sure who moaned when her fingers dipped into an astonishing, delightful wetness.

It was coming back to her now – that perfect height difference which meant she just had to tip her head to offer her lips; the muscular curves of the arms she was lightly tracing with an appreciative eye, committing them to memory, ignoring Emma's slight gaps; the hair that fell in soft curls that she couldn't wait to have splayed around her; the breasts brushing against hers deliciously – oh it was exactly right.

She turned her head and touched her lips to Emma's, even as the tip of her finger gently grazed over the taut wetness of Emma's clit. Emma's eyelids closed as her body visibly relaxed with a ragged gasp.

'Tell me,' said Regina, kissing Emma's lips lightly even as her fingers caressed Emma's wetness in a rhythm that was as swift as it was gentle. 'Tell me why you broke into my house.'

Emma's breathing had grown harsh. Regina could tell that her body had surrendered, and that Emma had withdrawn into herself. She was leaning into Regina, clinging to the sides of her desk with whitened knuckles, yet she said not a word. Regina fisted her other hand around Emma's hair and slid one finger inside her, while simultaneously nipping her lower lip.

Emma, her head thrown back, her body arched, almost came.

Except, Regina pulled out. Emma's eyes flew open in shock as Regina stepped away. Regina sucked on her finger even as she walked backwards towards the door. A dishevelled Emma stared at her in frustration and disbelief, but Regina only smirked, not bothering to hide the desire in her voice, 'Whenever you're ready Emma, tell me. Because I do so want to continue this.'

She whirled around at the door and just before leaving, turned her head sideways and said, 'Oh, and by the way Ms Swan. Use the front door the next time you…come.'


	3. Chapter 3

Much later that night, Regina sat on her bed, dressed in a blue satin slip. She held a glass of apple cider in her hand, and hummed to herself, thinking about the day. There had been so many meetings in office, and she had come home only a couple of hours ago. Yet, after a piping hot soak in the tub, followed by cooking her favourite meal (lasagne), and listening to music in the kitchen – she was feeling pleasantly content. Every meeting had gone well today, even the one with Rumple, thanks to Belle's presence.

Or maybe she had just been in an exceptionally good mood.

She studiously ignored her cellphone. Robin's messages had changed from hurt and outraged to pleading and apologetic. Regina pressed the cool glass of cider to her temple, wondering why everything he said sounded so rehearsed, as if he were always playing the role of a good man. Sometimes she felt that if she got into his mind somehow, pushed through his laidback friendliness, she would find absolutely nothing inside.

She sighed as the black screen of her cellphone display stared back at her silently. Emma, she thought with a flush. There was always something so real about Emma – in spite of, or perhaps because of that fluster, bluster, messy, awkward, (delightful, her mind added) idiocy.

She put her phone away. Anticipation, she decided with uncharacteristic good humour, was delicious. She touched the rim of her glass to her lips, wondering why her sudden attraction to Emma – discovered not even twenty-four hours ago – felt so natural. She had brought paperwork home and in an effort to distract herself from questions she didn't want to think about, she began reading.

And then, just when her mind had managed to successfully wander into why Granny's lease terms were so low, she heard a sound that made her freeze. In the silence of the night, the only sounds were the rustle of the pages she dropped on her desk, the chink of her glasses as she set them down, the swish of her leg smoothly moving against the sheet as she placed her feet on the floor. And the loud purring of an engine drawing closer.

A car had pulled up inside her driveway.

Feeling her breath catch, Regina drained her glass and smoothened down her slip with fingers that only slightly trembled, were only slightly damp. For a few minutes, she stayed still, while the engine continued to hum. When she turned to her side and switched off the bedroom light, the engine died, instantly. Then, a car door was shut. She heard light movement downstairs. She wondered if the doorbell would ring.

But there was nothing after. Just the rustling of the leaves in the wind, the hooting of an owl far away, the chirping of a cricket in the distance. And then, if she hadn't been listening hard, alive to every rhythm of her own heartbeat, she would have missed the soft thud – a few feet from her bed, right by the balcony.

She looked up, and there stood the figure in the same hoodie. Moonlight streamed in from behind the silhouette. Regina watched the figure, wishing there was a little more cider in her glass, to wet her suddenly dry throat.

And this time, as she stood up by her bed, she knew exactly who it was.

'Hi,' said Emma's voice, sounding breathless, shy, and sheepish, all in one.

'Sheriff Swan,' said Regina, forcing a confidence she did not feel. It was too similar to the previous night, too similar for her to not feel weak-kneed 'I see you found the intruder. Though, I believe I told you to use the front – '

She stopped speaking as the figure – as Emma – stepped forward. She was tossing aside the hoodie. Her hair was streaming around her shoulders, glistening in the moonlight. Regina felt her breath catch, wondering if she had never noticed Emma before, or had done everything she could to forget just how much she noticed her.

She had a pretty strong feeling she knew which it was.

'I want to tell you – everything. But you need to promise me something,' said Emma.

Regina wanted to argue, wanted to ask, but most of all, she wanted to close that infernal distance between them. Instead, she said in as cool a voice as she could manage, 'Ms Swan, I do not like playing games.'

Emma swallowed, then seemed to stiffen, 'Just one promise, please Regina.'

Regina's eyes roved over Emma. Absently licking her lips, she bit out, 'What?'

'You can't break up with Robin.'

Regina's eyebrows lifted slowly, even as a sharp pain seemed to jab into her heart. Every bit the regal queen, she replied haughtily, 'I broke up with him the moment you kissed me.'

In that much darkness, Regina could not make out Emma's expression, but she could see that the figure had gone rigid in shock.

'No,' whispered Emma, sounding horrified.

Regina felt a growing rush of confusion and disappointment. Crossing her arms, she said, 'I don't know what you're proposing Ms Swan, but _I_ do not cheat. Frankly, your behaviour is utterly baffling. First, you break into _my_ house with no explanation – '

For only the second time in less than twenty seconds, Regina found she was interrupting herself because of Emma Swan.

Emma had fallen to her knees, and was letting out a moan of anguish. And Regina found herself pulled towards Emma, as if by a magic far deeper than any she had wielded. For underneath that frail thread that kept them polite, kept them apart, was an invisible bond, one she had always taken for granted, always held tightly to. Ever since the day Emma Swan walked into her life.

Tentatively reaching out to stroke Emma's hair, Regina murmured, 'Emma, what?'

But Emma pushed Regina's arm aside, and curled into herself, slowly rocking, muttering inaudibly.

Sighing to herself, Regina ignored the shaking and pulled Emma to her, cradling her right there on the floor. Minutes passed, and Emma's shaking and muttering subsided. Her hands began groping blindly on the floor. Regina leaned over and picked up the hoodie where it had fallen, and passed it to Emma's chest without a word.

Emma clutched the hoodie with a mumbled thanks. They sat side by side, staring out of the balcony, out at the star-lit sky. At long last, Emma shuffled closer to Regina, and rested her head on Regina's shoulder. Taking the movement as encouragement, Regina put her arm around Emma and held her.

When she realised that Emma was shivering, she nudged her up. There was no resistance from Emma as Regina helped Emma clamber to her feet. She brushed her hair back behind her ears, thinking to herself – clumsy, awkward, sweet Emma.

And then Emma was holding her, pulling her to the bed. Regina lay down obediently, watching as Emma, with renewed energy, removed her boots, hopped a little as she pulled off her jeans, then climbed into bed and pulled a sheet over them. She felt a sense of wonder as Emma leaned into her on her side, her tear-stained cheeks brushing against Regina's face as she pulled herself closer and hugged Regina with one arm.

And then Emma was whispering, her voice thick with emotion, 'I'm going to tell you, but please don't leave me.'

Regina turned towards Emma, pulling her even closer with her arm. With their faces touching, her eyes closed, Regina said against Emma's lips, 'I only just found you Emma. I'm not letting you go.'

This close to her, she didn't have to open her eyes to know that Emma was smiling.

'All right,' said Emma, 'I'll tell you a,' she sniffled, 'a story then.'

Regina gently ran her fingers through Emma's hair, lightly touching her scalp, 'A bedtime story?' she said teasingly.

Emma bit her lip and nodded. Then said in a small voice, 'Since we are in bed.'

Regina's lips quirked. She noticed that Emma's body had relaxed into hers; that she seemed to be breathing more peacefully.

'Long, long ago, in a place far, far away,' began Emma in a tiny voice.

'Mh-hm,' said Regina, unable to resist a small peck on Emma's cheek.

Emma turned her face and pecked Regina's lips. 'Stop distracting me,' she scolded, still in that small voice.

Regina kissed her back, then said seriously, 'Don't keep me in suspense, darling. I've been waiting all day.'

Emma blushed at the endearment, shifting slightly so their legs were entangled. Regina forced herself to breath normally as she felt a spike in her desire at the contact. Emma didn't seem to have noticed any difference. Holding Regina close, she continued in a stronger voice, 'A um, a Sheriff – a very good and badass Sheriff – found that she liked someone.'

Regina couldn't resist another peck, this time on Emma's lips, 'Good and badass eh?'

'Yes,' said Emma a trifle challengingly.

Hearing no response, she burrowed further into Regina and continued,

'The person the Sheriff liked, she was very beautiful.'

'Uh-huh,' said Regina, lightly running her fingers up Emma's back. Emma lifted her head to kiss Regina – a chaste kiss that held a little longer this time.

She continued, 'The beautiful person – she was sending her many, many, many, many mixed signals.'

'That many, huh?' said Regina teasingly. The pace at which Emma was going, she wasn't sure she could hold out. She knew that under their play and the desire lay something serious that maybe neither of them were ready to confront. And it was taking everything she had to not flip Emma over and – Regina breathed out slowly as she felt Emma's fingers unbuttoning her own shirt.

There was some shuffling as Emma continued speaking, her voice growing more confident, a little deeper, 'The Sheriff thought this person liked her – but then she found out that an absolute oaf was her – soulmate.'

Regina couldn't help it. She pulled Emma's head to her and kissed her deeply. Emma didn't seem to mind, as her arms wrapped around Regina. Their kissing intensified as Regina began gently drawing Emma's tongue into her mouth, sliding across it with her own tongue, and rolling their bodies over, pinned them down. Emma's unbuttoned shirt fell apart, as Regina pushed both her hands underneath Emma's back to unclasp her bra, and push it up. Emma gasped but didn't resist as Regina drew her head back, and began kissing down Emma's neck, and took one nipple in her mouth.

She felt it then, even as her lips closed around the softness of Emma's breast – in the grip Emma had around her head with her fingers, in the press of her legs as they moved between hers, in the very surrender of Emma's body – the desperation that meant Emma thought this was her only and last chance.

Reluctantly, Regina forced herself to calm down and release Emma, even as Emma whined slightly at the loss. Regina's own satin slip was bunched at her knees, as their entwined, naked legs slid across each other, in a friction neither seemed to get enough of. Regina moved back to the pillow and rested her head beside Emma.

Emma sighed, but continued as if there had been no interruption, 'Tinker Bell told the Sheriff that if Regina didn't marry her soulmate, she would be trapped in the curse forever.'

Regina felt a chill in her heart. Emma was still speaking,

'Emma fought her feelings for a long time, even though she felt Robin Hood was all wrong for Regina. Then Emma – I mean the Sheriff – ' Emma stopped herself to peck Regina's cheek.

Absently, Regina stroked Emma's stomach, thinking hard. Emma continued, 'The Sheriff wrote Regina a letter, explaining what Tinker Bell had said, and how much – how she felt.'

Regina felt her mind whirring as she tried to remember everything Tinker Bell had told her about her soulmate.

Emma was still speaking though, and Regina realised she had missed something. 'But Regina was always giving her the cold shoulder treatment.'

'No, I wasn't,' protested Regina, snapping back to the present, and lightly swatting Emma's stomach.

'Regina is a character in my story. Can I tell my story?' said Emma petulantly, though her hand moved Regina's hand from her stomach to her breast.

They both drew a sharp breath as Regina's fingers curled around Emma's breast, drawing light circles around the soft mound. Regina leaned across and kissed Emma's neck encouragingly.

Emma squirmed, and continued. 'So after many such efforts, the Sheriff finally decided to leave the letter by Regina's bedside table.'

Regina felt herself melting, thinking of all the times she had caught Emma looking at her with that woeful puppy-dog expression, how often she had been on the defensive with her.

'I'm sorry, darling,' began Regina, even as Emma's legs squeezed around hers. ( _Mental note_ , thought Regina, _call her 'darling' more_.) 'This is all your wretched mother's fault.'

Emma, to Regina's relief, let out a small giggle. 'Well, I came here to leave the letter, thinking you would have gone to see Robin before you came home. But you were here. And you kissed me. Then you said – ' she broke off.

' – then I thought you were Robin,' finished Regina for her.

'Yes,' said Emma a trifle sulkily. 'Do I really look like him?' She gasped as Regina squeezed her breast lightly, her thumb making insistent circles around her nipple. 'It was dark,' said Regina, 'I was preoccupied. And your kiss – '

'He smells funny and he looks – ,' began Emma, shifting under Regina's hand.

Regina kissed her neck, her shoulders, her arms, her cheek, then said soothingly, 'Behave, darling.' Emma laughed a little, and turned to Regina, one leg firmly ensconced between Regina's legs.

'Or what?' said Emma challengingly.

Without hesitation, Regina turned and straddled Emma, pinning her down with her body. Emma moaned as one of Regina's legs pressed into her core. Then, almost lazily, Regina drew herself up and pulled her slip over her head and tossed it on the floor, her dark hair falling down her shoulders.

In nothing but her panties, with her body taut and proud, her stiff nipples brushing against Emma's body, Regina leaned back over Emma and said throatily, 'You're going to regret asking that question, Ms Swan.'


	4. Chapter 4

There was a gentle breeze that night, and the leaves shimmered in the bright blue of the moonlight as they swayed with the wind. There was a strange tension in the air, but the two women in 108 Mifflin Street were oblivious to it.

Inside Regina's bedroom, Emma's breath came in ragged gasps as Regina ran a finger down Emma's temple, tracing her cheekbones, down to her lips. When Emma's lips reflexively parted at the touch, Regina dipped her finger inside, curving inwards, working a soft, wet spot on Emma's lower lip. Emma's tongue tentatively brushed against Regina's finger as they stared at each other.

Staring each other down was familiar. Surrendering into each other's depths, wasn't.

With a distant wonder, Regina pushed her finger further into Emma's mouth. By the standards of any lovemaking, it was an oddly intrusive gesture.

'Suck,' said Regina, her voice sultry and only a little needy. 'No hands.'

Emma felt her lips obediently wrapping around the part of Regina's finger that was inside her mouth. Her tongue began swirling and licking – now sideways, now in little circles; alternating between the flat of her tongue and the tip of her tongue. It was a part of Regina inside her, and that thought made her want to not let go of the slightest bit she had, even if it was the barest tip of Regina's finger.

Emma had watched those fingers tap restlessly during Town Hall meetings, not knowing why her eyes had lingered there. Had watched those fingers curled around warm coffee cups, not knowing why her lips felt dry.

Now, as Regina's eyes darkened and the world shrank into this slight movement of Regina's finger on her lips, Emma closed her eyes. There was a maddeningly slow pace to every movement Regina made – and it made Emma's breath hitch. She sensed movements as the woman on top of her shifted her weight, heard the rustle of the bedsheet, felt the slippery, silky rubbing of Regina's core on her thighs. And then, as Regina's finger pushed deeper into her mouth, as her own tongue licked with bordering desperation, Emma felt a warm breath on her face – felt Regina's lips tracing her face, and then her lips, until with a swift motion, Regina's finger was replaced by her tongue.

In the same motion, Regina's nipples grazed Emma's breasts. A shuddering moan escaped Emma, as her hips lifted in response, and her thigh pressed back against Regina's core. Her hands flew to Regina's ass, and squeezed hard.

Regina swallowed a moan at the delicious contact, but forced herself to stop moving and pulled her finger out.

In a firm, if breathless voice, she said, 'Did I say you could touch me?'

Emma's eyes opened in protest – and when she saw Regina's expression – lust-filled twinkling eyes that seemed to be enjoying her predicament, she almost screamed. She groaned audibly and with one last squeeze of Regina's panty-clad ass (which she could have sworn Regina pushed against willingly), put her hands back down by her sides.

Regina's lips quirked as she said, 'This is supposed to be your punishment Ms Swan. If I find out that you're actually enjoying this, I would obviously stop.'

Emma bit her lip, her eyes riveted on Regina's finger. She shook her head, trying to put on her best innocent expression, 'Not…not at all Madame Mayor. This is not,' she gasped as Regina's lips touched her own in a feather-light kiss, 'enjoyable at all.'

Regina leaned back (and Emma's eyes closed again as she committed the sight of Regina's flushed face to memory) and said – 'Look at me, Ms Swan,' ordered Regina.

Emma opened her eyes, trying hard to keep her body from squirming, the feel of Regina's soft and silky skin still fresh on her palms.

Regina waited for Emma to focus, then said, 'Do you still want my finger, Ms Swan?'

'Yes,' said Emma immediately.

'Then I expect absolute obedience from you. Can you do that for me, Emma?'

Not trusting herself to speak, Emma nodded.

Her lips opened in anticipation, but Regina chuckled and shook her head.

'Spread your legs. No touching. If I find you actually _like_ this,' paused Regina, 'I _will_ take it away.'

Emma, remembering what had happened at the station earlier, felt herself quiver in anticipation.

And so, not twenty four after they had first kissed, Emma parted her legs, and Regina slid two fingers inside a very, very wet Emma, while her tongue back slid into Emma's mouth.

Emma's body arched in pleasure as she welcomed the intrusion, wanting it to never leave. Regina was giving her no room to speak, or she would have begged Regina to let her hold her – hold something. Dimly Emma thought to herself – _surrender more_. And so she let her defences drop, fully submitting to Regina's onslaught on her mouth and her core. Regina for the first time now was thrusting into Emma without her usual grace, and the raw intensity of her movements was driving Emma to new heights of pleasure. Two fingers became three, and then, four. Emma wasn't sure she could take it – but at this point she was beyond simple sensations like comfort and pain. All she knew was that she wanted more – more of Regina's fingers, more of her tongue and lips, and more of Regina inside and outside and everywhere.

The air was thick with tension, but the women were too wrapped up in each other to sense it.

And when Regina began working her neck – roughly, ravenously, and then hard enough to really sting, even as her thumb pressed against Emma's clit – Emma's mind exploded into stars, before she passed out with sheer pleasure.

Neither woman noticed a tremor of colour pass through the air, a momentary flickering of brightness.

Across the town, in a pawn shop, an impeccably dressed man stared into a gleaming mirror. He was reed-thin, with wrinkles lining his face, shoulders bent with the suggestion of humility, his eyes narrowed with arrogance. His knobbly fingers absently smoothened down his grey suit. The frame was faded and dark brown, but the image that stared back was crystal clear.

The man touched the mirror with a fingertip, and oddly enough, the finger _dipped_ into the glass, and the air shivered.

The man smiled. 'It's time,' he whispered. A manic cackle filled the room as he shouted gleefully, 'Show me Robin Hood and the Evil Queen.'

Swirling dark mists filled the mirror for a few seconds, and then cleared. The man's expression changed from glee to quickening horror as he watched the scene unfolding. And time itself stood still.

For a dazed Regina, it was either moments or centuries later before she was propping up her head on her elbow to watch Emma's body lying sated and still.

Slowly, she pulled out of Emma with a faint pop and brought her fingers to her lips, sucking them clean. Emma stirred only slightly. The sight of Emma, the scent of Emma, the taste of Emma – it was all making Regina flushed and lightheaded.

She could feel something changing, tightening, loosening inside herself. In the Enchanted Forest, she had indulged in lust and magic fuelled mating. But never before had she felt so tender towards her lover.

And she hadn't even come.

A question was forming in her mind, a suggestion of something wrong. Had Regina not been feeling as content as she was, she might have even chased the thought.

Instead, her fingers caressed Emma's arms lightly, watching Emma's chest rise slightly with each breath. It was the lightest touch but Regina hissed out a breath as she felt the hardness of the muscle, the softness of the skin; wondering at how often she had stared at them, only to look away.

For the first time since meeting Emma, Regina felt her heart open fully, drinking in the sight of Emma, the person she was, and accepting her, letting herself want her.

On the other side of town, the man's face was twisted in despair, his mouth open in a soundless shriek.

Inside the mansion, Regina was recalling with delight how Emma had obeyed her – always when asked, and even now at the point of orgasm. Wisps of smoke were curling from her skin and surrounding Emma, but Regina's eyes were already closing as an intense contentment filled her. Her clit was still spasming intermittently with spikes of arousal. Warmth and tenderness expanded inside her heart, closed and guarded for so long.

She could sense that all her defences were down and for once she didn't fight it. Fleeting images raced through her mind – of Snow White's bloodless face, of a raven taking flight, of Emma wielding a blazing black sword, kneeling before her.

There were questions she knew she longed to ask, but she felt a surrendering too strong to resist, a love she realised she had been longing for rush through her. The very tips of her fingers and toes felt warm. With a blind languid kiss that fell half on Emma's mouth and half on her cheek, Regina lay back down by Emma's side and fell asleep.

In the pawn shop, the man watched as the mist clouded the mirror again, and a new image appeared.

Robin Hood, sleeping peacefully by a log, a bow and a quiver of arrows by his side. The man hurriedly pulled out a jet-black ring from his pocket, and muttered, 'What's this…it must be this….'

His eyes glittered with uncertainty before flickering to greed. He looked from the man in the mirror to the ring and back to the man. His hand jerked as if to put the ring back in his pocket, and then with a sudden, impatient movement, he pulled it over his finger instead.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then an unearthly sound came from the mirror, as the wind picked up speed around the shop. Objects began to rattle as everything shook. A wooden clock on one of the shelves fell with a crash. The man cowered into himself momentarily, then quickly looked back at the mirror. There was a storm around Robin Hood as well.

Leaves, dust, twigs, everything was flying faster and faster. So fast that the man could not make out Robin Hood any longer. And then a burst of flame shone through and the man could see again.

Where there had been Robin Hood, there was now nothing. Except a bow, some arrows, and a pile of ash.

In 108 Mifflin Street, Regina opened her eyes and screamed.


End file.
